


Guidance from Michael

by crOwnlEssG



Series: Notes Tied to Balloons [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Family, Angel Siblings, Angel of Thursday, Angelic Family, Angelic Siblings, Angels, Archangels, Brothers, Castiel's childhood, Castiel's fledglinghood, Childhood, Collection of stories, Family, Fledglinghood, Fledglings, Gen, Guidance, Guidance from Michael, Heaven, Notes Tied to Balloons, NttB, Pre-Series, Series: Notes Tied to Balloons, Three chapters, Thursday - Freeform, eighth story, stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-08 00:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crOwnlEssG/pseuds/crOwnlEssG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a fledgling, Castiel had a very big, very interesting family. Each story will stand on its own and will consist of three chapters. Eighth story's up: Everyone is meant for something, the challenge is to discover whether the purpose is good... or otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First

_Whatever you do, I'll do it too_

_Show me everything and tell me how_

_It all means something_

_And yet nothing to me_

_._

_I can see there's so much to learn_

_It's all so close and yet so far_

_I see myself as people see me_

_Oh, I just know there's something_

_bigger out there_

_._

_Strangers Like Me ~ Phil Collins_

* * *

The city was ablaze with violent streaks of orange clawing their way out of homes and angry bursts of yellow detonating at the same rhythm as the villagers' panicked heartbeats. A once peaceful civilization was in utter chaos and the extent of destruction was irreparable. Michael watched on in dismay as the human casualties escalated.

He wondered how he ever became involved in this, because this was not – had never been – what he tasked himself with. His initial intentions had been good, yet somehow events spiraled so far down at a pace that was too quick to comprehend, even for him.

Amidst the pandemonium, the fledgling currently under his supervision got himself in an accident as well. Castiel was trapped in a ring of holy fire. The flames had devoured a wooden shelf that happened to store the right ingredients for concocting the special oil; when the shelf crumbled, the jars broke and spilled their contents onto the ground, and it did not take long for the fire to slither along. Since it had been unintentionally made, the ring was not in a perfect shape but, in spite of that, it was enough to render the fledgling helpless.

Michael wondered why he even went this far to help him.

Castiel was scared, and he had every right to be. Not only was he trapped, but there was also another shelf high above him – holding the same properties for holy oil – that was steadily being consumed by the flames. If that shelf gave way, the ingredients would catch fire on the way down as they pass the burning walls. If that would transpire, Castiel would be directly hit since the imperfect ring of holy fire was so cramped that he would have no means of escape. In that case, it would be instant death for him, because no matter the manifestation, fledglings would be killed if they ever so much as touch a spark of holy fire.

Michael wondered if he should help him, one more time, despite all the trouble Castiel had caused, all the lives that he had scarred.

The upper shelf creaked precariously and Castiel stared at Michael, wordlessly begging the archangel to release him from his fiery prison. Tears, shining fifty times brighter than the flames, began to trickle out of the fledgling's blue eyes.

Michael wondered if he should rescue Castiel, the brother who acted so much like Lucifer.

O_x

_**Earlier**_

The time came once again when the newest additions of Heaven were to be given their titles, their lifelong purpose in creation. Each fledgling would have to be known specifically for something when they become full-grown angels. Angel of Light, Angel of Vengeance, Angel of Laughter, Angel of Creativity, Angel of Triumph, and so on. A fledgling's potential must be discovered in order for their title to be bestowed upon. Since every fledgling was unique, the same should go for their designation; the more domains the angels had under them, the better the forces of Heaven were.

Traditionally, the sacred task fell to God. Lately, however, it was Michael's job to decipher the fledglings' capabilities and ascertain that they receive proper guidance. The responsibility came with being the oldest among the angels, and since by now he ought to be fairly familiar with all of his brothers and sisters. Of course, Michael took over for his Father without question.

He was inside a chamber as cavernous as an ocean of Earth and he sat in the very center of it. The place was huge because every possible forte of a fledgling had to be considered and accommodated, such as a knack for speed or acrobatics, a talent for fantastic transformation, a gift for manipulating nature, or any other impressive feat.

Michael had recently finished another consultation and, so far, he was pleased to know that nearly half a million fledglings were going to serve their Father quite well in the future. Albeit it would take a bit of time and practice to hone their skills to perfection, Michael could not have asked for better siblings.

"Next," he announced to the gigantic door where, on the other side, a couple of hundred more fledglings were waiting to be admitted inside. Michael glanced at his list of names. "Castiel." he called out.

The door remained shut for some time, and when Michael was starting to wonder if the fledgling in question even heard him (and it was impossible to turn a deaf ear to an archangel), the door was gradually pushed forward until a sliver of an opening was visible. Regardless, after waiting for a moment, no one stepped inside, yet Michael could feel the fledgling's presence just behind the door, and his Grace was radiating sheer tentativeness.

"Come, little one. Time is precious." urged Michael.

There was a faint whimper on the opposite end – no doubt a sign of fearful reluctance – before Castiel went in. He was a tiny thing, much smaller compared to the other fledglings, but his light shone brighter than the rest of them. His form reminded Michael of a sharp bit of blue diamond surrounded by duller stones, and Michael could not help himself in being slightly intrigued.

In his timid manner, Castiel approached Michael, and throughout his short trip, he was caught between the disorienting awe most fledglings would experience whenever in the proximity of an archangel and nervousness for his own sake. Once Castiel was standing in front of him, it took him a few seconds to remember to bow to his presence, and he performed the gesture in awkward haste.

"Now, Castiel, what are you good at?" asked Michael, trying to be as nonthreatening as possible.

Another moment of hesitance. "Nothing, sir." said Castiel shyly.

This was the first time a fledgling ever answered that, and for them to believe that God had made a mistake in some way was almost blasphemy. "Surely there's something. Our Father wouldn't create you without the bestowal of a gift or talent." he said.

Castiel's wings twitched inward as a need to hide himself. "I don't think I have one." he muttered.

"Nonsense." said Michael, and perhaps his voice was a tad loud because Castiel retreated a step. He studied the fledgling to see if there were any visible attributes (besides his light) that suggested an unrecognized talent or so, albeit he found not a trace. "Perhaps some experimentation is required." Michael proposed.

He put some distance in between them and unfurled his wings from where they were tucked away behind his back. The action brought an explosion of a supernova in the chamber and, for one heartbeat, it was like the two of them were in the complex, shimmering webbings of the universe. Castiel ogled at the spectacle in shock and nearly fell over in its magnificence.

"Knock me down." ordered Michael. The reason why he spread out his wings was to make him as big a target as possible; he would be more open to any attack this way. When Castiel looked at him as if he was being commanded to break every law in Heaven, Michael gave him an encouraging, if not challenging, little smile. "Go ahead. Try to knock me down. Give me the most powerful blast you can muster." he said.

Castiel made a feeble noise that resembled a whimper, and it was obvious that he was frightened to do _anything_ to an archangel, let alone Michael. However, since he was under orders, he had no choice but to obey. He very reluctantly got into a fighting stance and prepared to harness his energy within his Grace. After a couple of seconds, Castiel released a ball of energy and threw it at Michael… though it ended up landing halfway and quickly fizzled out. The chamber was draped in awkward silence for a while.

"Needs work. Maybe you're more equipped for dealing with the elements." commented Michael. He folded his wings and approached Castiel. "Produce any weather pattern of your choosing."

Now, Castiel seemed more uncertain rather than terrified, and Michael took that as an improvement. There was an expression of confusion on him which implied he could not decide what to conjure that would be impressive enough to please an archangel.

After a short while, Castiel started creating a miniature puff of cloud that changed from white to gray, as if it, too, was having difficulties in what state it should be in. The cloud soon took on a gray hue and a mild drizzle was produced the instant the cloud had settled. Judging from its outward appearance, the cloud looked fine; however, Michael wanted to test if it was internally stable.

Michael made a little tornado at a size similar to Castiel's rain cloud and sent it toward the fledgling's creation. The objective was to check if the cloud's structure would prove durable against a threat, such as winds ripping through the air. The tornado and the cloud collided, and their friction brought about sparks of would-be lightning and weak pulses of aerial shockwave.

Castiel did his best to maintain the cloud's shape, but the cloud's edges were rapidly being shredded. Before long, the cloud was obliterated and the extra pressure from the tornado sent Castiel to the floor. Immediately, Michael erased the tornado and went to see if his brother had sustained any damages, which, thankfully, he did not. Only when Castiel managed to get up did Michael choose to speak again.

"What about setting the stars ablaze? Do you believe yourself capable of such a feat?" asked Michael. Stars were a complicated matter to most angels, but to the few who were able to produce them effortlessly belonged to a highly-privileged category.

The developing misery on Castiel's face dissipated, which allowed a bit of hope and fascination light up his eyes. To better help him, Michael crouched down until he could meet the level of Castiel's gaze. Initially, Castiel retracted and was fearful at such an act, like he was a fragile rabbit who was wary of anything that attempted to be near him. Michael soothed his brother by extending his open palm at him and letting a fraction of his Grace warm him over. Once Castiel had calmed down, Michael used the same small portion of Grace to show the fledgling the process of building a star. After observing for some time, Castiel dared to slowly copy his example.

"That's it, that's it…" said Michael. He nimbly flicked a strand of light to the side, and Castiel followed. He twisted a bubble of heat and dropped it into the core, Castiel did the same. For a moment, Michael thought that this was it, that he had found Castiel's field of expertise…

Then Castiel's infant star wavered and its radiance exploded in a manner similar to a popped bubble.

Castiel stared at his shattered work in dejection and Michael spared him a pitying glance. "What am I to do with you?" he sighed.

"I'm sorry, sir." said Castiel. There was a notable quiver in his voice and his form unconsciously trembled along with it. He had his head bowed so low that his face was no longer seen.

Michael scrutinized him very carefully. Castiel had been the lone fledgling to ever undergo a bit of trial and error, in the entire history of Heaven. The other fledglings knew exactly what they were capable of, what they wanted, how they saw themselves. Castiel was proving to be very… different from the rest, and that unnerved Michael somewhat because he knew another angel who was unlike the others. And he liked to think of that angel as less as possible nowadays.

"How many more fledglings are outside?" Michael asked loudly. He had his sight set on the region beyond the chamber's ceiling and waited.

 _*NINE HUNDRED FIFTY-EIGHT.*_ spoke the Metatron.

"Less than a thousand. That's a consolation." commented Michael. He spared a fleeting look at Castiel, who seemed on the brink of tears and was drowning in his flood of self-imposed shame. "Tell them that their counseling for individual designations will be postponed until further notice. One of our brothers is in dire need of my guidance and I will only move on when he has found his title." announced Michael.

Stunned, Castiel's head snapped up and he strived to rein in his unshed tears. "Sir…" he gasped quietly.

"Send them my apologies as well." added Michael.

 _*AS YOU COMMAND.*_ spoke the Metatron.

"I-I'm not important enough for you to extend your time on me." said Castiel.

"It's my policy. I must finish a whole session before focusing on another sibling. I can't break my own rule." said Michael sternly. Despite the fact that this would cause a massive delay, he knew taking on this task was an absolute necessary. "Besides, our Father never created anyone who wasn't important." said Michael, breaking his somber façade with a more caring tone. He loved all of his siblings, and to exclude even one of them was like to gain a critical slash from a sword.

Michael chuckled at Castiel's wonder-filled expression before making a move to slip out of the chamber's secret exit, to avoid startling the fledglings still outside. "Follow me."

TBC


	2. Second

_I'll be there someday, I can go the distance_

_I will find my way, if I can be strong,_

_I'll know every mile, will be worth my while,_

_When I go the distance I'll be right where I belong._

_._

_I Can Go the Distance ~ Michael Bolton_

* * *

They penetrated the veil that separated Heaven and Earth, moving as seamlessly as a dream filling a human's subconscious. Michael touched down on a patch of dry grass near a stonewall that encircled a village. Castiel landed beside him a second later, though he made sure that the distance between them was far enough so that he would not brush against the archangel's glorious wings.

Michael scanned the area to check for any 'open positions' that his brother could take. "Tell me, Castiel, what do you think of human rituals?" he inquired after a moment.

The sudden question rendered Castiel momentarily flustered before he managed to compose himself. "As long as the rituals praise our Father, then I think they are good." he replied.

A faint smile made its way across Michael's face. That was actually a decent answer; the fledgling might have a chance in this trial. "Care to see if your calling lies there?" he asked.

All Castiel did was stare widely at him, and Michael assumed that he was ready to undertake it. Michael turned and phased through the stonewall to enter the village. The inhabitants remained unaware of his presence as they went on with their mundane tasks of doing the laundry and carrying supplies from one point to another. When Michael glanced backward, he noticed that Castiel had not moved from his spot.

"Come along, brother. You must not dally." said Michael firmly. Castiel tensed and immediately trailed after him.

Michael knew that this was one of the more religious places on Earth – and by religious, he referred to it as a site where people worshiped God, and not the other deities who claimed to be as such. This should be a safe location for a fledgling to explore and learn without being corrupted in the process.

The only problem he noted was a small group of men huddled in an alley close to the church. From what he could gather listening to their grumbled conversations, as well as quickly reading their individual backgrounds, these men were complaining about the taxes imposed on them by the local priests. They were basically miserable, and albeit they had no quarrel with the church, they did, however, harbor bitter feelings toward the priests. Michael purposely led Castiel away from them and even used his wings to block them from his brother's sight.

They approached the church and glided effortlessly through the side wall. Upon reaching the other side, Michael realized that they were inside the secluded chamber of the church, where the priests would perform their more drastic ceremonies and rituals without the public watching. At the moment, there were five priests in the chamber, and each was doing his own part to carry out the ritual.

"These are the priests of this land. It is their responsibility to be the link between the mortal men and the Heavenly Host… or at least they try to be." said Michael as the priest who was holding a basin tripped and spilled a bit of the water.

Castiel tore his gaze away from a priest methodically chopping up a bundle of herbs. "I don't understand." he replied, staring at Michael.

"They teach the people the law and will of God, but oftentimes they are either misled by their own intentions or cannot grasp the precise meaning of something." explained Michael.

In the very corner of the room, he saw a considerably large amount of coins that seemed quite too much, even if they were to serve the church. He extended his vision a little more and noticed specks of dried tears on a number of coins, tears made in grief and desperate anger. As his eyes continued to wander, he became aware of the smidgens of dirt on the coins as well. It was not the typical kind of dirt that usually found its way to the humans' possessions; this dirt implied that there had been struggle, as if someone forcefully tried to keep something from being stolen. These must be the taxes.

"The priests are a few of our human conduits, although sadly they, too, are vulnerable to walk the path of a lost sheep." said Michael.

"So we help them?" asked Castiel.

"We guide them." Michael corrected. "We push them toward the right direction, and we keep them on the right path. If the priests impart false knowledge upon the people, then hundreds of men and women will be besmirching God's name." He looked down at his brother. "You don't want that to happen, do you?"

If it were possible, Castiel's eyes widened even more. "No, sir!" he squeaked, downright terrified.

"In that case, are you willing to take up this job?" inquired Michael.

Castiel glanced at the priests and then back at Michael, his expression serious. "What am I to do?" he asked.

"How about something simple first?" said Michael.

They surreptitiously moved closer to the priests until they were mere inches away from them, though Michael allowed Castiel be much nearer for a better observation. Currently, the priests were kneeling on the floor and letting a continual stream of chants flow out of their lips. The candles had been lit and the chamber was beginning to overflow with the smell of incense and mixed herbs.

"What are they doing?" Michael questioned Castiel.

The fledgling's head tilted to side, as if the information he was getting was a little heavy for his mind to contain. "Praying?" he ventured.

"Yes, or to be more exact, asking for a sign. Unlike our faith, the faith of humans is not as resolute. They can hold on tightly, yet they can also slip or waver." clarified Michael. He did his best not to think about it, but he failed and his thoughts went to the cause of why the humans were delicately prone to sin. It was all because of a single angel who Fell many, many, many eons ago…

Michael snapped out of his reverie when a priest tapped on a brass bell. It was never good to dwell on the past, especially _that_ segment of the past. Right now, he had another brother to worry about; Castiel needed to have a title so he could attain an official role in creation and learn his place in Heaven.

"Show them a sign that someone is listening to their prayers." said Michael, his tone encouraging. If Castiel performed a good job in this, he could be deemed as the Angel of Holy Rituals or something along those lines. He had the temperament for it, as well as the interest.

There was a ring of sigils painted on the floor and the priests were in it. For a fully-grown angel, the sigils were harmless; for a fledgling, it would be like being impaled by a dozen spikes. To succeed in this task, Castiel had to exert enough power to overcome the effects of the ring.

Castiel nervously stepped forward without breaching the barrier of symbols and analyzed the chamber, possibly searching for a medium he could use. His eyes stopped roaming the moment he came across the bowls of herbs at the foot of the tiny altar. He appeared to concentrate on telekinetically stirring the contents, yet the sole thing he achieved was to turn over a handful of leaves, an act that went unnoticed by the priests.

"More effort, Castiel." Michael told him.

This time, Castiel's sight found the arc of candles at the edge of the ring. He concentrated harder on manipulating them, but just one candle ended up affected, and all it did was flicker briefly toward the opposite direction.

"Again." ordered Michael.

In the third attempt, Michael was not even sure what Castiel was focusing on. However, the mere fact that he, an archangel, was unable to find any sort of change was worse.

"You must capture their attention. Do something more obvious." said Michael, and the commanding tenor of a general was beginning to reveal itself.

Castiel shrank back at that because, as a soldier-in-training, there was no mistaking that voice; comprehending it was as instinctive as the gift of flight. He became more desperate now and his gaze settled on the basin filled with holy water at the top of a pedestal. His Grace stretched out as far as it could to endeavor to control the water, and his wings flapped a couple of times behind him as if to offer an extra push.

A minute passed and Michael thought that nothing would happen. Then, the water started swishing erratically, and the movements were actually strong enough to rock the basin a little bit. Nonetheless, the noise it was creating was drowned out by the priests' chanting, plus the fact that their voices were echoing loudly across the chamber. Castiel did not appear to be disheartened and instead kept directing his strength to the water.

Suddenly, the water leapt up and hit the priests in a miniature blast. The impact was not severe, but the pure shock of what occurred gave the priests a justifiable reason to scream out of the chamber as if they accidentally unleashed the wrath of God. The sound of their wild terror reverberated across the walls for several minutes.

"I believe I made it _too_ obvious." muttered Castiel.

Michael said nothing and tried to remain calm. His brother had just frightened away a handful of priests – mortal deliverers of the Word of God – and may possibly have convinced them that they were being punished or rejected. This could greatly affect the entire mindset of the people, with the priests making them believe in their hysteria and instilling unwanted perceptions in them.

He went out of the church to see if the priests had already started in dealing out any repercussions; Castiel followed him. Thankfully, the village was still peaceful, although Michael was concerned that he could not sense any of the five priests nearby.

What got his attention, however, was the group of men moping by the sidelines… or at least they had been moping a while ago. Now, they were laughing so hard that there was a real possibility that they might topple over each other. Apparently, they had seen the priests fleeing and approved of the spectacle. One of the men stated that he had not laughed this hard in years. Michael, meanwhile, was peeved that they were taking their religion too lightly.

"Let's find a different place." he said to Castiel. Michael set off to the west and a perplexed fledgling stumbled after him.

O_x

The two angels appeared near a small riverbed that had been the life source of a once thriving citadel not made by human hands. By now, it was reduced to rubble, although the leftover supernatural energy from centuries ago still shone like a lit piece of coal in a pit.

Their travel had been so fast that Castiel barely managed to keep up with Michael, let alone register where they were. He curiously looked around their surroundings to try to figure out their location, yet no matter how much effort he was putting into concealing his thoughts, Michael had no trouble reading the uneasiness his brother had.

"You wish to know where we are," stated Michael, knowing full well that it was a fact instead of letting the words come out as a query.

Castiel's wings twitched protectively around him and his gaze went straight to the ground. "Yes, sir." he mumbled.

The shame of failure from his mishap at the church dragged heavily at his Grace which, for Michael, was readily apparent. "There's nothing wrong if you want to speak first. You don't have to wait for me to ask you something or for me to give you permission." he said.

At that, Castiel stared up at Michael as if he was being given a second chance, as well as forgiveness, since he was not being scolded or punished. He then stole a glance at their environment and asked, "Wh-Where are we?"

Michael extended the wings on his right side and gestured for them to go inside the remains of the citadel. "We are in an area that will someday be known as Nazca, located in the south-western hemisphere of the Earth that will be named South America. For now, this is called The Aoh." said Michael.

While it was true that his power was not centered on seeing the future, he did have a somewhat limited access to it. The whole details of what was to come remained murky to him, but there were bits that he could decipher, and he thought it was an advantage to inform the other angels of what was imminent so as to be better prepared for it; every piece of information was precious.

Castiel dutifully stayed close to Michael, albeit the way his eyes went over every crumbled rock, every broken glyph, and every faded mural hinted that he was fascinated and wanted to explore the citadel. Unfortunately, they were not here to explore.

"This used to be the melting pot of a Fae tribe and a branch of the Atlantean civilization, but its inhabitants had long since moved on." explained Michael.

It was hard to believe it now, but there were still traces of their reality etched upon the buildings. The stones had been enchanted to be colored blue and green so that everything would appear lush; the structures had been specially designed to accommodate creatures of both water and air; and a domed edifice, previously a laboratory, had been devoted to and responsible for creating the flying fish. Presently, the continued existence of the flying fish was all that was left of them.

"Why?" asked Castiel, sounding completely crestfallen.

"War broke out." said Michael flatly as he stared ahead. He chose not to add the fact that it was the angels that had driven them out of the citadel in the first place. The alliance of the species had brought about a level of progress so intensely sophisticated that they were beginning to challenge the rule of God.

"Do you think you're able to hide this?" asked Michael. They were out of the ruins now and the sun was baking the land like bread.

Shock illuminated Castiel's eyes. "But, sir… the culture… the history…" he said.

"The world does not need to know this, not for an incredibly long time." said Michael.

Some things – constructed out of Atlantean technology and Fae magic – in the citadel were too advanced to be handled, especially by mortals. Castiel seemed to appreciate history, or at least value the advancement made by other beings. However, there were already angels designated to those roles and no two angels should have the same title. For here, Castiel will prove whether or not he can take on the burden of being the Angel of Concealment, which would tackle, not just hiding things physically, but also from memory.

With obedience and sad acceptance seeping into him, Castiel put his concerns aside. "How am I to hide this?" he inquired.

"That decision falls to you." said Michael.

Castiel held the ruins in his gaze for a long time, as if apologizing or saying goodbye. Finally, he flew over to where the grass gave way to sand and started creating a sandstorm. As the grains of sand violently swirled and a wind pushed them toward the direction of The Aoh, Michael noticed that the manner in which the storm carried itself was sloppy – it would be effective in burying the citadel, but it lacked the elegant force a true storm needed to possess. Thankfully, Castiel was not here to become the Angel of Storms.

When the sandstorm had gotten enough momentum to operate on its own, Michael pulled a very flustered Castiel to his side, a good distance away from the citadel.

"Stand back and let nature do its work." he said.

They did so and, for a second, Michael thought that this would be a success. However, that was not to be the case.

"Lizard!" Castiel cried out. And all of a sudden, Castiel slipped out of Michael's hold and zoomed toward the sandstorm. After a few minutes, it became clear that Castiel was manipulating the path of the sandstorm; its formerly smooth descent turned into haphazard jerks and wide sweeps.

"Castiel! What are you doing? Get back here!" Michael ordered.

He expected the fledgling to come back instantaneously, but he was fairly stunned when Castiel kept directing the sandstorm to random directions. Michael waited a while longer, although his brother remained in the distance as if… as if he was ignoring him, disobeying a command straight from an archangel. This had never happened before. No one ever dared to disobey him; it was as debauched as committing a sin with his standards.

No one defied him… except for one, and his fate had been far from pleasant.

Michael took off, grabbed Castiel and landed on the top of a rocky mountain. Without Castiel controlling the sandstorm below, it collapsed and a huge amount of sand rained down on The Aoh, burying it under multiple layers of sand.

"What was that about?" demanded Michael. His eyes blazed with genuine fire for a fleeting moment.

"I was trying to save the lizard." whimpered Castiel, absolutely terrified of him now but striving, with every bit of his Grace, to stand his ground and explain himself.

Michael's anger ebbed and was replaced by puzzlement.

"It was pregnant." Castiel reasoned out in a pathetic voice. He bent his head down and looked away in an effort to hide the fact that he was going to cry.

Michael calmed himself down and considered his brother with empathy. So he had spotted a lizard and wanted to rescue it from the sandstorm. It was a noble deed, Michael supposed; nonetheless, Castiel performed an act of reckless insubordination.

"You can't just interfere like that." said Michael, using a soothing tone. After all, he wanted to guide him, not demean him. "One lizard's life isn't significant enough to drastically change the path of a storm." he stated.

"Four, sir." whispered Castiel.

"What?"

"There were four lives. Not just one." he meekly clarified.

If not for the fact that he was an angel, Michael would have rolled his eyes or sighed like a human who was doing everything in their ability to tolerate someone they cared about. Since Castiel confirmed that he was unfit for this job, Michael wished to depart as soon as possible. But when he checked on his brother, he found out that his wings were trembling with fatigue after tugging and shoving that sandstorm in virtually every direction conceivable.

"You have until sundown to recuperate." said Michael sternly.

Castiel peered up at him and probably wanted to say his gratitude, yet stopped himself when Michael turned away from him. To be honest, Michael was still – for lack of a better word – upset. One of his brothers had disobeyed him and he needed all the time he could acquire to calm down and seek wisdom from their Father.

As the hours passed, Michael watched the landscape below for any detrimental side-effects from Castiel's sandstorm. In his attempt to 'save the lizard,' a large, extremely conspicuous spiral was on the ground, and it was sure to catch someone's attention.

Right on cue, a couple of humans – part of the same assortment of wanderers that seemed to be so plentiful on the planet lately – appeared on the horizon. They were tired from their journey, and so opted to rest behind one of the rock formations in the area. Michael extended his sight further and noticed that a few mosquitoes were flying near the humans' camp. The mosquitoes happened to be carrying a disease that would potentially be fatal for the humans who were not accustomed to this sort of land.

Then, a pregnant lizard emerged from behind a stone and began to eat the mosquitoes one by one using its tongue. Michael stared at the sight in disbelief.

As if the situation could not escalate any further, a child broke off from the group to explore and discovered Castiel's spiral. The child called at the rest of the humans and they all gathered around the spiral to ponder over it.

Michael reckoned it was time for him and Castiel to leave before he witnessed anything else.

O_x

For their third destination, they landed in the middle of the busy center of a northern city, where the structures were made out of marble and the roads were mixed with smatterings of quartz. The air was filled with the scent of fresh olives and the sound of bells tinkling at the front of the nearby homes.

A group of children, none of them over a decade-old, raced each other and obliviously ran through the two angels. Three boys knocked over a pear stand. The owner of the stand shouted at them, but the children fled before they could be disciplined, snickering along the way. For their sake, Michael hoped their rowdy attitude would improve in the future. He checked up on Castiel and saw that he was staring at the place where the children were last seen; plus, he had on that look that suggested that he was thinking very hard about something.

"The children fascinate you." observed Michael.

Feeling caught, Castiel transferred his gaze to a stray pear on the ground that the owner had failed to pick up. "Balthazar said that, if I were human, my age would be equivalent to theirs." he said.

Michael found that notion to be rather… odd. It was silly to compare angels to humans. "Do you believe that?" he asked, humoring him.

Seconds passed as Castiel seemed to regard it carefully. "I don't know, sir." he replied.

If Michael was certain of anything about this particular brother, it was that Castiel was one strange fledgling who saw wonder and peculiarities in the most random of things. "It appears that the children are going to school." he said, steering them to a new topic. "Would you like to see your first human class?" he asked him.

Like a hot spark falling and igniting a wick, Castiel's eyes widened and shone brighter in wordless excitement. They followed the path the children took and soon came across the sight of twenty-one children sitting under the shade of a tree. In front of them was an elderly man armed with a few scrolls and books.

The three boys who knocked over the pear stand were present and situated at the back. While the man did his lecture – the topic being the first deeds of the earliest humans – the three boys paid no attention to him and used everything they could get their hands on to entertain themselves. They threw pebbles at the other children and pinned the blame on someone else whenever their victim got too annoyed. One boy stole a coin from a chubby girl's pocket; another put a beetle on the back of a sickly boy; the other tied the belts of two children together. Michael watched on in mild disappointment.

"Sir, they are being taught incorrect accounts." said Castiel, referring to the elderly man's teachings. Clearly, he was more focused on that instead of the damage the three hooligans were causing. Michael wondered if Castiel even knew about them or simply chose not to interfere.

"And you wish to remedy the situation?" inquired Michael. Essentially, the teacher really was rambling on and on about a wrong piece of information, and it was quite sensitive on their part since it touched on the theme of Creation.

Castiel seemed to realize that or, at the very least, picked up on something he learned when the two of them were at the church. "I don't want them to be misled." he said earnestly.

A twitch of a smile graced Michael's mouth. "I'll give you an hour with them. Educate them as you see fit." he said.

The shock on Castiel's face was as evident as a fissure on an icy surface. It was a heavy task to handle for someone as young as him, but he needed to grow and take risks; besides, Michael trusted that he would not mess up too much within an hour. He flew to Heaven and sought a brief time of peace and solitude in his chambers.

When he returned, the noise of bickering and muttering children were gone. Instead, all of the children, especially the three boys at the back, were eerily quiet. Upon closer inspection, Michael saw that their eyes were as big as silver dishes and their mouths hung open in half-formed screams. Meanwhile, the teacher was sitting dumbly against the tree, as if trying to comprehend what happened. There were traces of angelic influence on his mind, so Michael assumed that Castiel bestowed a fraction of Revelation onto him which, even at a small amount, can be seriously overwhelming to humans.

It then dawned on Michael that the children were actually traumatized by what they were 'taught,' and the teacher was suffering from some degree of that as well. He noticed a bunch of scrolls with fresh ink on them and scanned their contents. What he read there was the entire history of what happened after the Seven Days, when the purity of Man had faded; _every_ detail was written on the scroll, from the most insignificant to the most… unsettling.

"I might have overestimated the mental capacity of human children." said Castiel guiltily from behind the tree.

"This is too much information, Castiel." said Michael with forced patience.

"But, sir, they have a right to know." said Castiel.

"Not about this."

"It's is a part of who they are – "

"That's enough." Michael cut in. He did not raise his tone, yet it was more frightening when he lowered his voice to a grave level of quiet. It was like the first hushed rumble of the earth just before it emitted a roar powerful enough to shatter the sky, just before the ground opened up to swallow a chain of mountains and gobbled the oceans.

Castiel fell over immediately and struggled to get himself into the lowest kneel he could achieve. "Forgive me, sir." he whimpered.

Michael hated it when he had to strike fear into his siblings to try to have them understand why certain matters had to be the way they were. There was a fragile sense of balance to uphold, and for Castiel's case, that meant keeping some details away from the humans. No one needed to know what Cain truly did to Abel, or the other methods of sacrifice Eve's children performed, or the massacre when a number of them attempted to reclaim Eden, or how there had almost been a second war in Heaven. Those things were best kept secret from humans.

At least the children were behaving now. Whatever the teacher had to say (once he recovered), they would be listening to the lesson attentively.

With a thought, Michael erased what was on the scrolls and pulled Castiel up. "It's time we head off to another location." he said.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So basically Cas started the Nazca lines, and the wandering people thought it was a nifty idea to keep drawing more stuff (don't judge my crazy thoughts XD). Cas' spiral ended up being the tail of this: tinyurldotcomslash9dr36da (just change the "dot" and "slash" to their actual symbols).
> 
> Fae = Fairy. I thought it would be a cool connection since some people theorized that the Nazca lines were "runways for extraterrestrial beings" A.K.A. aliens, and the aliens we had on the show were fairies. There you go.
> 
> The Atlantean part… well, one of the other Nazca lines is an orca, so to have a sea creature in the middle of a desert is a little "fishy" don't you think? ;)
> 
> And I think it's safe to say that I'm having way too much fun fiddling with history. Please don't bash me for any historical inaccuracies; every weird detail here is just for the story ^^


	3. Third

_I was waiting_

_For the day you'd come around._

_I was chasing,_

_And nothing was all I found._

_From the moment you came into my life,_

_You showed me what's right._

_._

_Feels Like Tonight – Daughtry_

* * *

Under a great pine tree covered in snow, Michael was remotely viewing the situation in Heaven. The other fledglings who had yet to receive their titles were becoming restless and were beginning to cause a commotion. Some of the custodial angels were doing everything in their ability to placate them, yet it was proving to be a losing battle.

Perhaps Michael should have ordered someone to temporarily replace him in his absence before leaving. Then again, there was not anyone around who had the same authoritative power and consideration as he did. The angel who was closest to his position was Raphael, albeit everyone knew that things would end disastrously if he was in charge of the fledglings.

He supposed that this course of action was the best. After all, the fledglings could use this time to exercise patience and humility (and maybe they would tire themselves out when Michael returned). The length of their waiting period, of course, depended entirely on Castiel's progress.

Right now, he was trying to find out if he was any good at guiding animals in their migration patterns. It so happened that the nearest group of animals were deer, and Castiel was attempting to change their winter route so that they would not have to pass by a bunch of wolf dens. So far, Castiel was failing miserably, and if he had a physical body at this moment, he would have been trampled a dozen times already.

After a few hours, the deer managed to alter their direction, for a few degrees. Castiel trudged his way back to Michael with his wings dragging behind him in pure defeat.

"It's alright, Castiel. We'll find another task for you later. Take this time to reflect." said Michael. To be honest, he was growing weary with his time with this fledgling. No one had to take this long in discovering their titles, no one had to try so many things before.

Michael watched as his brother was suddenly surrounded by squirrels, and he soon learned that Castiel was endeavoring to manipulate the migration pattern of smaller animals this time. Castiel made a gesture – a command to get the squirrels to go to the right –and they all ignored him. Castiel concentrated harder; two of the squirrels started grooming while one curled up to sleep. Frustrated, Castiel plopped to the snowy ground and sat, his wings covering him.

In spite of the lack of development, Michael had to admit that Castiel was determined and diligent. Most fledglings would have given up by now and might even be bawling at their incapacity. At least Castiel refused to give up and was more than willing to take up a new challenge.

Out of curiosity, Michael tracked, in his mind's eye, where the deer currently were. Apparently, the slight change in degrees had a huge overall impact as there was a good distance between the deer and the wolf territory. The deer were now heading for a clearing where a group of humans were located. Michael saw that the humans were cold; a few of the incoming deer could help fix that problem with their may not have done the deer much of a favor, but the humans would surely be thankful of their slight change in route.

"Michael?" Castiel spoke up.

Michael snapped out of his remote viewing and looked at Castiel. "Yes, brother?"

"Why do we have to serve humans?" asked Castiel.

It was an innocent question, born out of the random process of thought from the mind of someone young, who simply wanted to know why. It held no malice or subtext; it was genuine curiosity from a being who was pure of heart.

And yet… the words were eerily familiar. Michael remembered another angel use similar words, eons ago. Those words had been directed at him as well, but during that time, there was anger and the sense of betrayal in the air.

" _Why must we serve them?_ "

Castiel was staring at Michael, clearly waiting for his answer. His wide blue eyes were almost the same hue as Lucifer's, and that realization made Michael turn his gaze from him.

"Because it is our Father's will."he replied, and that was the same answer he gave back then. "And according to His will, we have to make sure they live a righteous life, as much as possible." he added.

"What if He didn't tell us to? Would we still care about the humans?" Castiel went on.

Michael could still trace Lucifer's every movement precisely as he paced in front of him.

" _Do you really believe that_ this _is God's overall purpose for us? Is it His will for our kind to be degraded like this? That we have to cater to the petty needs of these walking, sickeningly flawed mounds of clay?_ "

"It's not in our place to question His decisions. Everything is as He wanted it to be." said Michael.

Castiel leaned against the tree and studied a tiny mound of snow. "It's… strange. One man's life is barely a fraction of our existence. Angels have such great power, whereas humans are so vulnerable to… everything." he commented.

" _Michael, I'm telling you to open your eyes because you seem to fail in noticing how broken and weak they are, even from the moment they take their first breath. We are angels! We were created long before them, we hold the power of the cosmos in our grasps, and_ we _were the first to bring honor and glory to the Father. How can humanity compete with that? How are they suddenly more significant that_ we _have to kneel to_ them _?_ "

Lucifer's light had shot all over the place, his once brilliant shine had transformed into a demented source of radiance. As if for the first time, Michael saw how much brighter Castiel was compared to the others, and he found himself becoming tense.

"Sometimes, I wonder if this is really how it's supposed to be."said Castiel.

" _This isn't right. We deserve more –_ much _more – than this._ "

Michael wished he would stop talking. He wished it would just stop.

"What do you think?" asked Castiel.

" _Michael, say something!_ "

Michael stood up so abruptly that his movement caused the leaves of the trees within a hundred meters to quiver. "We should get moving." he said curtly, not sparing a glance at the fledgling beside him.

Fearing he upset him in some way, Castiel was about to say something but Michael interrupted, "You're bordering on blasphemy, Castiel. Be grateful that I allowed no punishment to befall you."

Castiel's wings ruffled in shock. "Sir, I – " he began anxiously.

"That's enough." said Michael firmly.

They flew to another destination.

O_x

Ever since their conversation under the pine tree, Michael had been feeling uneasy around Castiel, which was probably because, now, he cannot stop comparing the fledgling to Lucifer. The way he thought and the way he behaved practically mirrored Lucifer's own personality if Michael scrutinized him enough, and there was no other angel who knew Lucifer better than he did.

Before God created humanity, Lucifer had been benevolent and loyal. He loved Earth and he believed in the potential of whatever creation their Father brought into existence. He wanted to learn every detail about what God made – how the trees fed on sunlight, when the animals got tired enough to sleep, what colors the sky could change to – and in a way, he developed a thirst for knowledge, paralleled by Castiel's seemingly insatiable curiosity.

Lucifer served and was devoted to God with every ounce of his being, albeit he did not follow His every word with blind obedience. There were times when he would question, or at the very least voice out his concerns. The more he knew, the more he wanted to find out more, and at first, it was nothing more than harmless inquisitiveness.

Then he began thinking…inventively; he began stretching possibility after possibility that went beyond what was needed by Heaven. Lucifer had started to push limits bit by bit and expected changes to occur, changes according to his intentions. Essentially, he wanted things to be more than what they simply were because of the available opportunities each of them presented.

Most of all, Lucifer loved his family. He loved them so much that he refused to have their radiance overshadowed. He loved them so much that he would not allow the humans to get the better of angels. It was that same love that got him cast out.

Michael quickly peered at Castiel's Grace and saw that its light shone with a great deal of love for his siblings. Even though some of them made fun of him or gave him a hard time, his love for them all was as unwavering and pure as a newborn sun. Michael prayed that that intensity will not flare up and horribly consume him as it did to Lucifer.

Below them appeared a small town in the middle of a dense forest, and since it was nearing nighttime, the town looked as if it was drifting atop dark, rustling waters.

"We shall try here." Michael told Castiel.

They landed on a hill by the town's outer limits so that they can still survey the inhabitants without going inside. There were children playing in the town square, men in the stables tending to their horses, a cat having a good stretch after a long nap, a mother and father trying to teach their baby daughter how to walk with little success…

"What is my task, sir?" asked Castiel.

Michael eyed the sky as sunlight drained out of it, much like how blood would escape from a dying man's face. "Do you know what a wendigo is?" he inquired seriously.

The hesitation from Castiel sufficed for an answer. "Fairly, sir." he replied.

"Apparently, this town is at the mercy of one." said Michael, a fact which he discovered the moment the town entered his vision. There was a corruption in the area, and his senses registered the stench of brutal death.

The second the light disappeared from the sky, the aura of peace and happiness in the town ebbed immediately. Most of the residents ran to their homes, and the collective sounds of doors being locked and windows being barred echoed and reached the hearing of both angels. Those who were a tad braver sealed the gates that led to the town and checked the condition of the spikes poking on top of the wall that separated them from the forest. It was a crude and rather ineffective defensive strategy, but it would help in slowing down the creature hunting the people down one by one.

Michael motioned for them to move closer, and they did until they were standing in front of one of the town's gates. Evening was upon the land and the darkness was almost cloying.

"Do I have to fight it?" asked Castiel, sounding nervous.

"In this place, your job is to protect the lives within those walls." said Michael.

Castiel had been staring at the fortified wall when Michael spoke. When he heard what he had to do, he turned around to face Michael so rapidly that he virtually fell over. "Then I have to kill the creature?" he asked incredulously.

After a fleeting consultation with fate, Michael assessed that tonight was not the night the monster will perish. Like with all things in creation, it had a role to play in the grand scheme of things, and it was not yet fulfilled. "No, brother. It seems that this particular wendigo still has a part to play in the future. It _will_ die, but not at your hands. Worry not about its death." he said.

There was a faint noise behind them, like leaves caught in a breeze… except there was no such breeze tonight.

"It's approaching. Keep it away from the town." said Michael.

Michael backed off to provide Castiel a decent amount of space to do whatever he must to fend off the monster. The wendigo was fast, but Michael believed that Castiel's speed would be more than a match for it.

Sure enough, the wendigo started its assault, coming from the east, and Castiel blocked its path with a swift explosion of flames. Though momentarily stunned, the wendigo tried again and approached the northeast side of the town. Castiel deterred it with another short-lived explosion. The wendigo moved toward the western part of the wall, but Castiel stopped it before it reached the gate.

This went on for several minutes; however, the wendigo eventually managed to learn and grew more cunning and adept in its maneuvers. Castiel, meanwhile, was beginning to feel the first symptoms of fatigue, and by now even he should realize that he ought to change his tactics.

Then, just after Castiel deflected another of the wendigo's persistent attacks, he flew up to the walls and ignited every spike that was attached on top – all three thousand five hundred twenty-six of them. Castiel did not simply light one spike and let the fire spread to rest of its accord; that would take a far longer time. Rather, he focused on lighting all of the spikes at the same time, and with their number and distance, that had to take a lot of energy out of him.

"Castiel, are you sure you can control all of this?" asked Michael who, throughout the entire time, remained in the canopies and out of the way. If a full-grown angel was performing this act, he would not doubt their ability. But Castiel was a fledgling, and his powers were not as developed.

Castiel did not say anything, primarily because his concentration was being exerted on maintaining the fire on the spikes, not allowing a single one to flicker out even for a second. Nonetheless, this tactic appeared to be working since the wendigo was not getting within twenty feet of the town's proximity. If Castiel could hold out a while longer, the wendigo might actually head back to where it came from.

Unfortunately, Castiel did not seem to have enough strength to let all the spikes burn for another minute. He faltered and a couple of spikes were on the verge of going out, although he prevented them from doing so in the nick of time by putting a bit more effort into what he was doing. Despite his intentions to keep the wendigo at bay, he ended up exerting a little too much effort and some of the spikes' flames expanded and got caught onto the roofs of houses.

From the roofs, the fire spread to the barns, to the poles that supported drying clothes, to the wagons that held trading goods, to the stalls that would sell fruits and vegetables in the morning. Within three minutes, the town was completely awake and screaming in terror.

Castiel stared at his work in alarm. "Oh, no."

Houses and other structures were beginning to go up in flames and crumble into ashes. People were confused and wailing as they watched everything they possessed burn away. A number of them attempted putting out the fire by dumping buckets of water on the site, though now the fire had reached the stage wherein it was nearly impossible to tame, so their noble efforts were proving to be a lost cause.

As if things could not worsen, a section of the gate was destroyed by the flames, which allowed the wendigo an entrance into the town. Clearly, it had mustered enough courage (or stupidity, more likely) to face the heat simply for the sake of human meat.

Michael did not know whose stupidity was worse: the wendigo's or Castiel's as he flew in headlong after the beast.

"Castiel?" he called out. The only response he heard was the mad crackling of fire.

" _Castiel_!" Michael tried again. Nothing.

Castiel was becoming more and more disobedient, and that angered Michael more than anything. If he cannot follow the orders of an archangel, then what hope did he have of being able to follow a lower-ranked angel, or anyone else for that matter? Michael feared that this tiny spark of rebellion would escalate into something as unruly as the flames before him.

He waited for any changes in the town, such as the fire weakening or becoming stronger, or the air suddenly being filled with more screams that would indicate the wendigo's kill. But everything remained somewhat constant.

If he wanted to, Michael can extinguish every flame in the town in less than a heartbeat. However, he will not, because that would stir a bigger, more long-lasting commotion. He did not want the humans to expect their problems to go away just like that; he did not want them to believe that divine power would conveniently make their lives better. Though the fire was not technically their fault, they needed to rely on their own abilities to form a solution so that they can learn and grow. That was what God wanted.

After a few more moments of waiting, Michael went in the town as well. He wanted to check on the people and how they were faring against the fire –a lot of them had suffered from at least one kind of injury at this point, but since they were already evacuating at a rather swift pace, there was no real need for him to help them or interfere in any other matter. While the safety of the humans concerned him, his main priority was to find Castiel and hope that he had not gotten himself into more trouble.

Michael did a quick scan of the town and was surprised to discover that he was actually experiencing difficulties in pinpointing his brother. He tried a second time, yet it was like there was something blocking him, a barrier of some sort. The idea alone disconcerted him, albeit he pushed it aside because he had a responsibility to fulfill, and he absolutely refused to return to Heaven with a missing fledgling.

He ended up searching the town the old-fashioned way, which was going through house after house until he located his brother. It was a tad humiliating since he, of all the angels, had to make do with such a time-consuming method. For humans, his search throughout the entire town would be thirty times faster than a blink of an eye, but for the standards of angels that would be agonizingly slow.

For some odd reason, Michael managed to find the wendigo first before Castiel. It got itself trapped under the weight of a big roof that collapsed from the fire and was presently scrambling out of its tiny wedge with hardly any progress. It was scratching and biting at the beams on top of it but it kept cowering down when the flames ventured too close to its face. Michael decided to leave the monster where it was and continued his search for Castiel.

It was not until he got to the two hundred eleventh house did he come across the fledgling. And soon he registered just as instantly why Castiel's signature was stifled: he was trapped in a ring of holy fire.

The house they were in once belonged to the town's herbalist, so the necessary ingredients for creating holy oil were present. What must have been an organized collection of materials laid out in meticulously categorized jars and boxes was obliterated when the fire snuck its way inside and burned the shelves to nothing. Everything had fallen to the floor, though a few items mixed together and produced the special oil, which ultimately attracted the flames and trapped Castiel. The chance of that occurring was one in a billion, but it was by no means impossible.

Castiel frantically looked up from where he was backing away from the holy fire when he noticed Michael come in. Terror was evident in his eyes and he was desperate to escape his prison, especially since the space within the ring was vanishing fast.

"Michael!" Castiel cried out. He unwittingly inched forward and, just before he brushed against the flames, remembered that he cannot cross them. He retreated again and stared at Michael pleadingly.

Despite Michael's prior intention of ensuring Castiel's welfare, he found himself having second thoughts about the fledgling. This was how Lucifer had been before he betrayed the will of God: innocent yet ambitious, unique yet did not conform to the general mindset of Heaven, empathetic yet can often be overly-sensitive. It was like Castiel was the infant pup who, at the moment, was weak and soft while Lucifer was the full-grown wolf that learned to harden its claws and sharpen its teeth. Pups will grow up, and Castiel had already shown signs of rebellion, which can possibly develop over the centuries.

"Michael," implored Castiel, and it came out as a frightened whisper. The fire was closing in on him and soon he would not have space to move. Soon, the fire will kill him.

Nevertheless, Michael continued to look on at his brother in a similar way a judge would measure up a person thrown in front of him. Suddenly, Castiel's unusual brightness did not appeal to him anymore since it was reminiscent of Lucifer's own glorious light. What if Castiel would bring on something horrible in the future – perhaps not another war between the angels, but something else equally or more dire?

The fire in the town was spreading more rapidly. If the flames from the haphazardly created ring will not reach Castiel within the minute, then he would most likely suffer from what was above him instead. Overhead, near the ceiling, was a shelf that held the same properties for holy oil, and it was being consumed by the fire. If the shelf gave way, the ingredients would plummet and land on Castiel. If the ingredients – or the oil, for that matter – hit the fledgling, the flames would cling to him and roast him alive.

Castiel was weeping now, extremely bewildered why Michael was not doing anything to save him and beyond scared that he might die, painfully.

Being the eldest of all the angels, Michael had learned to deal with his siblings in every manner, and that included eliminating a number of them when necessary. It was something he did not, never at all, wanted to do in his existence, but sometimes he had to so he can get rid of the taints in Heaven, to avoid the rotten apples from infecting the pure ones. This was particularly prevalent during the war, not just on the battlefields but also within his own ranks when he suspected a change in loyalty from one of his soldiers.

Should he let the fire claim Castiel, he would be eradicating the likelihood of him growing up to do anything unfavorable; he would be cutting off a stem before it grew any thorns. But then… it would be as if he condemned a soul to Hell without the person committing a single sin yet. And the one thing that Michael loathed more than any other was killing his family.

The shelf broke. The ingredients fell.

Michael produced a hasty, miniature earthquake that made a crack in the ground where the wonky ring of holy fire was, effectively breaking it. He scooped Castiel into his arms and flew them out of the house before the ingredients even connected with the floor.

"I got you. It's alright. I got you, everything will be alright." Michael cooed as his brother clung to him tightly, luminous tears still falling from his eyes.

O_x

Dawn came, and Michael and Castiel were recuperating near a field where the survivors of the burnt town sought refuge for the night. As the people consoled and took care of one another, Michael did the same to his brother by tending to his wounds. Unlike the humans, Castiel did not suffer from any burns or broken bones, mainly because he had no physical body. Regardless, being kept in a ring of holy fire did an extent of damage to his Grace, so Michael had to replenish and mend it.

Angels did not sleep, although Michael put Castiel in a sort of stasis so that he can work a little faster. Besides, Castiel needed the rest, and Michael supposed that he owed him at least that after almost letting him die. Since they left the town, he had not stopped apologizing to God about nearly killing a sibling; the guilt would haunt him quite a while but he guessed that was what he deserved. He had grown too paranoid over the years, too distant from his own family that he was starting to become blind to the hope that they all carried.

As Michael remedied Castiel's Grace, he unintentionally glanced at the fledgling's most recent memories, and he was surprised to discover that Castiel had given the humans a bit of a helping hand when the town had still been burning. Albeit he did not assist them directly, Castiel had performed other acts of hidden kindness, such as clearing a safe path to the exit for them, and even knocking over a house to pin down the wendigo. It warmed Michael's heart… if he had a real one.

Castiel stirred in Michael's hold, which prompted the latter to gently restrain the other.

"Don't move. I'm not done healing you yet." said Michael. If Raphael was the one doing this, Castiel would be healed by now. Treating injuries had never been Michael's strong point; inflicting them, however, was more familiar to him, and he had to wonder if that was still considered a good thing.

A comfortable, although weary, silence descended on the forest, as if the trees were also recovering from what happened in the town. A couple of people had woken up and were getting ready to start the day and their new lives.

"I'm sorry." said Castiel quietly. "I'm so sorry for everything. I can't do anything right."

Michael paused in his work as he detected severe grief in the fledgling's voice. "It's fine to make mistakes, as long as you learn from them." he said.

He shifted his hold on Castiel so that his brother was curled up on top of his Grace. It was significantly bigger than Castiel's form, but instead of making the light overwhelm him, Michael toned down the intensity of his Grace so that Castiel can be blanketed in the cozy warmth of an archangel's life force. "Do you want to hear a story?" Michael asked.

Castiel peered up at him, like a kitten having its interest piqued, and made a faint noise that implied his agreement.

Settling into a more laidback position, it came upon Michael that he had not done this in a long time, to drop the role of the general and simply be the big brother who wanted his siblings to know that they were loved.

"I know of an angel who, long ago, made a lot of mistakes." he began.

Employing the same physics in creating a rainbow, Michael acquired a bit of sunlight and moisture from the air to be able to draw with light. For his first character, he made use of the green light.

"Now, the reason he made so many mistakes was because he was very afraid." Michael went on.

"Of?" peeped Castiel.

Michael smirked and made the shape of the green light slightly more definite. "Frankly, of everything that can go wrong. Whenever he had to do something, he always feared for the worst. He always expected that he would mess up in one way or another, that everything would be his fault and all the other angels would be disappointed in him." he explained.

With the green light already floating in front of them, Michael created three more lights – a red one, an orange one, and a purple one – and molded the others in a style akin to what he applied to the first.

"He did a lot…" He animated the green light and made it seem like it was carrying a dangerously heavy load. The green light dropped everything and the other three lights appeared to mock it.

"…he did a little…" The green light was tinkering with something while the other three lights started circling it in an exuberant manner, as if they thought that whatever the green light was doing was silly. The green light became flustered and hid from them, far away.

"…but in the end, because of his constant fear of doing something wrong, he became nervous and unfocused, and so he failed." The green light zoomed around for a moment in a complicated series of loops and zigzags, then it faltered and crashed into an imaginary ground.

Castiel crept toward the green light in anticipation. "What happened to him? Did he ever get better?" he asked.

"Yes, he did. He soon realized that, in order to fix this, he had to stop pushing himself too hard. God created him in a certain way, but he kept trying to be more than that, and he simply couldn't be someone he was not." said Michael.

The green light got up from where it had fallen and flew to where the other lights were.

"He did not just cause damage, he was also hurting those around him. So that was when he decided to… let go. Not completely, but just enough. He stopped imagining worst case scenario after worst case scenario, and instead concentrated more on what was actually happening, what had to be done, who were going to be affected. Should something happen, then he will react to it. In the meantime, it's important to focus on what's ahead of you first." said Michael.

The green light rejoined the red, orange, and purple lights. All four came together and united to bring forth a big white light, which hovered in front of Castiel's face for a moment before vanishing like a mist.

Michael commenced stroking Castiel's wings in a soothing way; they were still rather downy, and it would be quite a while until his wings become totally mature. "The point is… I see that you're trying, that you're honestly doing your best and have no intention of causing harm." he told him sincerely. "However, I also noticed that you're being pushed too hard, and we're both to blame for that. So I want to say that I, too, need to apologize… for everything." he added.

This time, Castiel looked up at Michael and the expression he was wearing was a mixture of disbelief and compassion. Disbelief because an archangel – the highest of all archangels – had apologized to someone like him. It was simply inconceivable for an archangel to express humility for the sake of a fledgling, and for Castiel, it felt like such an honor, such a blessing, to be regarded this way. And compassion because, somehow, he understood; he heard the words that went unsaid and he loved his brother enough to grant him immediate forgiveness.

A shy yet tender smile lit up Castiel's face, and Michael found himself returning the gesture. All was well between them. Castiel appeared to have something on his mind, but his attention switched to the direction of the humans.

"Michael, look," he muttered happily.

Michael tracked where Castiel's vision was and his eyes landed on a family of three: a father, mother, and their infant daughter. It occurred to Michael that this was the same group of people he saw in the town before it burned down; the parents who were trying to teach their child how to walk. Even after their home and belongings turned to ashes, they still held onto the precious moments of their lives. This time, the child was taking her very first wobbly steps; her father was behind her and her mother was eagerly waiting for her with open arms.

"She's walking." commented Castiel.

After staggering a bit, the child finally closed the distance between her and her mother. Both parents embraced one another and cheered at the achievement of their daughter. Despite their homeless situation right now, these people still had much reason to celebrate life.

Michael noticed how pleased Castiel was at this development. "Do you like the humans?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir. Very much." answered Castiel.

"Why?"

Castiel watched the family for a few more seconds before he was able to gather the proper words. "It's just… despite their faults, they're still God's creations." he replied, not taking his eyes off them. "They try to be better every day of their lives, even though they just live for a short while. They still try; they want to make a difference, they hope." Castiel turned to face Michael. "They're fascinating." he concluded.

Upon hearing those words, Michael recognized the key difference between Lucifer and Castiel, and that was their opinion concerning humanity. Lucifer despised them, whereas Castiel was in awe of them. It was the sole factor that abolished Michael's fears once and for all, and he felt a great surge of relief wash over him.

"What if I tell you that I just discovered your title?" said Michael.

Castiel's eyes widened and he clambered off Michael in shock. "How? I haven't done anything right yet." he said.

"You've been doing something right this whole time."

Michael recalled the past trials that Castiel had gone through: the incident at the church brought laughter back to a bunch of men who had experienced nothing but sorrow over the last couple of months; for the second trial, saving the lizard might have saved the lives of the future settlers of that land; for the third trial, the rowdy children ought to cause less trouble by now; with the deer, they will provide warm coats for the humans who were endeavoring to survive in the cold wilderness; and lastly, with the town that had been devoured by flames, the former inhabitants will be able to value what was truly important in life, such as love and family. Castiel certainly made mistakes, but those mistakes bloomed into a more profound treasure.

"A lot can happen in a day. A new chapter of life can start, an adventure can fall into place, a tree can grow, a hard lesson can be learned, a bond can be formed and strengthened, a promise can be fulfilled – the possibilities are infinite. It may not always be what you had planned, but whatever happens will always be unique." explained Michael.

He leaned in closer to Castiel, as if to tell a secret. "A day is precious, because no matter how big or small something is, it is bound to happen and exist _one day_." he said. Michael paused and allowed himself to smile. "Would you like to be an angel of a day?" he asked.

Apparently, it was possible for Castiel to look more bewildered. "I don't…" His voice trailed off. In spite of his best efforts to conceal his emotions, Michael can see them flicker as openly as watching butterflies in a flower garden. Castiel was thrilled, perplexed, grateful, skeptical, as well as many other things, and the unexpected burst of emotions was beginning to overwhelm him.

"What day?" Castiel eventually asked, slowly on his way to accepting that this was actually, _finally_ , happening.

"There are seven days in a week." stated Michael. "I sense that Thursday works best for you." he replied after mulling it over.

"Thursday?" repeated Castiel, his head tilting.

"The day of changes and travel… Thursday's child has far to go. I believe someone will make a poem in the future with those words." remarked Michael. He shook his head because he really had to stop giving bits of the future away. "'Far to go' because you will have to go through many obstacles, but the rewards will definitely be worth those challenges." he clarified.

The shock had yet to disappear from Castiel's expression, and now he was merely staring at Michael, dumbstruck, like he had yet to wrap his mind entirely around this reality. Michael chuckled and rose to his full height, which seemed to startle Castiel out of his trance.

He extended an open palm and bathed Castiel in a gently refreshing beam of iridescent light. "Congratulations… Castiel, Angel of Thursday. I hope you serve Heaven well." said Michael.

Like with their first encounter in Michael's chamber back in Heaven, Castiel was so stunned with what was going on that he nearly forgot to kneel and ceremonially show his respect and gratitude. "Th-Thank you, sir. I'm deeply honored." said Castiel, and the tremble in his voice betrayed the fact that he was barely able to repress the joy he was feeling.

Michael closed his palm and the light faded. "Arise, Castiel. You must prepare yourself for the work ahead of you." he said.

"What should I do?" asked Castiel a tad apprehensively.

"Whatever you believe you have to." replied Michael. Castiel would be in charge of his own courses of action from now on; there will be no one to tell him how to do his job as the Angel of Thursday because that would be his own field.

A large smile etched itself onto Castiel's features, which Michael returned with a thoughtful nod. In a wordless understanding, they both decided that it was time they went back to Heaven; besides, there were other fledglings who currently had no titles.

"Sir, you never told me the name of the angel in your story." Castiel piped up in midflight.

For a second, Michael considered not to divulge the information to him. "Do you want to know?" he queried.

"Yes, sir." responded Castiel.

Michael let out a short laugh and flew a little further ahead of him so neither of them would see the other angel's reaction. "Me." he said.

Even without glancing behind him, Michael knew that Castiel was more than surprised by the revelation. "Don't tell anyone. This is simply between us." added Michael. After all, he had a reputation to keep.

"You have my word, sir." said Castiel seriously.

Michael could not help but smirk. Not even an hour had passed and the Angel of Thursday had already promised him something. There would certainly be a bright future ahead of him.

Fin (for this mini-story).

**Author's Note:**

> Metatron: voice of God
> 
> I sort of based the Metatron on the one in Good Omens, except without the personality. I'm actually kinda happy that I got to include the Metatron in this story before it ends… even though he/she/it just acts like Michael's personal secretary or something XD


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